


Another Night, Another Bottle.

by CescaLR



Series: The College years; or wherein Scott, Lydia and Stiles are flatmates, and the rest of the pack is suspiciously missing. [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Conversations, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Gen, Light Angst, POV Scott McCall, Scott is a Good Friend, Stiles is the drunk one, scott pov, which is a problem neither address
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:19:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CescaLR/pseuds/CescaLR
Summary: Stiles is drunk, again. Lydia is out, again.Scott picks up the pieces, again.(As he always does.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think this series is making up for the lack of Scott in my other ones, that is... probably maybe possibly certainly the case.

Stiles is drunk, and Scott hates to think _as per usual, eh?_ because it's not, and it shouldn't be, not really - but it's not like Stiles is any different drunk -

Except maybe he is, in all the little ways. A little more touchy, a little more open, a little bit quicker to insult and quicker to apologize.

A little bit quicker to everything, really. A little _more_ everything.

So Stiles is drunk. Scott would say what Lydia's up to, but then she'd probably frown at him, so he won't.

(she's Out. _having fun,_ she'd say.

 _Fun like bowling, or sex with other guys?_ He remembers. He doesn't say. Quoting friends long gone would be weird, and not to mention the can of worms _that_ would open in the first place.)

Stiles is frowning into the empty bottle of Jack.

When they're home, that's all he'll drink. Scott thinks he's in a near constant state of being perpetually buzzed - but then Stiles would probably - no, definitely - be dead if that were the case...

He probably drinks water when Scott's not looking. It makes no sense, of course, but since when has Stiles made sense? Also it keeps Scott from lying awake at night worrying about two people rather than one, so call him selfish but he's _human,_ okay? Let him swim in the river denial, it's warm and comforting.

Stiles is safe. He's Scott's _brother,_ and he's always been there - for as long as it counts, anyway.

(Scott doesn't count the years before Beacon Hills as truly part of his life, to be honest. His Dad was part of them, after all, and his mom had never been honestly happy, back then.

So he doesn't count those years.)

But the point is Stiles is like - like both the unmovable object _and_ the unstoppable force, and Scott knows those things meeting is trouble, but honestly he doesn't care because Stiles is his _best friend._ His brother.

Who sometimes spikes Scotts drinks, Scott knows, which is why he hasn't taken a drink since coming back from the toilet. Just to be on the safe side.

Stiles sighs, and stands, not even slightly wobbly, and walks over to the bin.

The glass clatters into it, sharp thuds down to the bottom, and Stiles is slower than usual when he moves to get another full bottle, moves thought about beforehand.

That's a sign of Stiles' drunkenness, Scott knows. Careful movements - far more coordinated than usual, because he's not rushing to do everything all at once. He's slow.

Calm.

Maybe that's why he's drunk so often, these days.

Scott grabs the remote and turns on the TV. The volume is jarring, since the apartment had been so silent, and Stiles hisses, grabs an ear, gestures wildly with the hand holding the bottle in his direction.

 _"Dude."_ He complains, and Scott mouths sorry to him as he lowers the volume.

 _"I don't need a hangover headache before morning Scotty."_ Stiles says, not a single word slurred.

Scott wonders how he does it. When Scott drinks, he's a slurring, uncoordinated babbling mess of a human being.

 _"I wonder what Lydia's up to."_ Stiles muses into his bottle. He snorts out a laugh before taking a swig.

 _"Probl'ly something more interesting than this, eh Scott?"_ He asked, and Scott shrugged, because what Lydia found interesting (what Stiles found interesting) these days didn't sit so right with him.

 _It wasn't you that left._ He reminds himself, but Scott never listens to his own head.

Stiles plonked the bottle down, the liquid sloshing around inside of it.

 _"They're the ones who're gone, Scotty."_ He says, and Scott thinks about now is when he should start tuning him out.

(This is the 'more open' part he was talking about earlier.)

 _"No, Scotty - you listen to me."_ Stiles demands. _"They're gone. You hear? Them. Not us. We. We didn't leave, alright? They're gone, but we're not, and that's what matters."_

Scott refuses to listen. Over the years, he thinks Stiles' memories have gotten jaded - where as Scott looks back fondly with rose tinted lenses, instead of those cracked green ones Stiles prefers.

_"You, Me - Lydia. We **stayed.** That's gotta count for somthin' Scott. It's got to."_

Scott doesn't say anything. Stiles sighs, and claps him on the shoulder.

 _"You'll get it eventually Scott."_ He says, so sure and yet _so,_ so _wrong._

_"We're all that's left of the old pack, buddy. And you? Need to build a new one."_

Stiles stands, grabs the bottle and meanders over to the door.

 _"I'm going out."_ He announces, and Scott nods, and lets him go.

The door clicks shut behind the young adult, and Scott sighs. Picks up the remote, settles in on the... what could generously be called a couch, if you squinted and turned your head sideways whilst as drunk as -

Stiles. Yeah, Scott worries that that's a metaphor that works.

He sighs, again, and turns the volume up.

Lydia and some guy - slightly older, Sheriff's uniform, Scott thinks it might be Parrish; the new Sheriff after... well - Lydia and him, they stumble across the room and Scott turns a blind eye as they enter her bedroom.

Scott turns up the TV, drowns out the noise. He watches absently, but doesn't really pay attention.

Passive. Scott thinks.

_That's all we really are, these days._

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short little thing because I haven't much time right now - haha, it's pretty close to literally midnight - and I wanted to post /something/ so I decided upon this little series I have neglected mainly because it was highly experimental (and still is) and I haven't a clue what to do with it, oops.  
> So, what do you think of this little thing?


End file.
